


Bagginshield December

by HiddenKitty



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: 2016 AU, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-09 19:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 10,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8909224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenKitty/pseuds/HiddenKitty
Summary: A 2016 Bagginshield Advent Calendar ...and more!





	1. Day 1

The weather has turned cold, and Bilbo unlocks the doors to the University Library with fingers that are almost numb. It’ll be a quiet one today, presumably. Budget cuts have meant that the Library is now open to the public, too, but not many seem to know that, and with the hours students like to keep it’s often midday before anyone but Bilbo and his staff are in.

He has barely filled the kettle before he hears the creak of the old hinges behind him again, and calls out from the office, “Not yet, thank you! 9am!”

“But you’re here,” says a gruff voice. 

Bilbo stomps out to the desk and comes face to face with quite the most handsome man he’s ever seen, tall and blue-eyed, with a hawkish nose and a dark beard. He looks irritable, and a little startled. Not a student, unless he’s a mature student.

“I wanted to use the internet,” says the stranger, and Bilbo is too stunned to do any more than point to the computer desks in the corner. He watches the stranger walk over to them and flees back to the office. Tea suddenly seems an even better idea than usual.


	2. Day 2

It’s Friday at last, thinks Bilbo gratefully, checking the library for stragglers before he locks up. The handsome man came in again today, at lunchtime, but Ori was manning the desk and Bilbo was on the sandwich run, so he missed the chance to hear that lovely deep voice again. 

He goes to shut down the computers. One has been left with a webpage up about mental health counselling. There are at least a dozen more tabs open behind that one, all on the same subject. Bilbo closes them, frowning.

Most students have their own laptops, so the computers aren’t used as much as they once were. In fact the only person who has used them today is the handsome man.


	3. Day 3

Bilbo treats himself to breakfast in bed, and is still under the blankets at 11am when he phones his young cousin Drogo. Drogo and his wife Prim have been coming to Bag End for Christmas for years now, ever since they went “on holiday” to Scotland at 21 years old and came back married. Neither set of parents has quite forgiven them.

“Bilbo!” says Drogo. “I’ve been meaning to call. You know Prim’s pregnant? Her mother rang last week and they’ve invited themselves for Christmas this year. I think we’re suddenly back in the good books. You’re welcome to come too, of course!”

“Oh…” says Bilbo. He considers, but not for long. He’s always found Aunt Mirabella insufferable. “I won’t, if it’s all the same to you. You’ll struggle to fit around that table anyway.”

“I know,” groans Drogo. “And Prim’s going nuts trying to source a decent turkey.”

“Don’t worry about that!” says Bilbo. “I’ll drop in at the butcher’s and tell them to change the address on my order. It’ll do for four, though you won’t have many leftovers.”

“Bilbo, you’re a lifesaver!” says Drogo gratefully, and they chat a little while longer. 

When Bilbo hangs up, he is only a little sad. Of course their arrangement could not have gone on forever, and it isn’t as if he hasn’t had Christmases alone before.


	4. Day 4

The butcher’s is only open for a few hours on Sundays, but Bilbo manages to catch them in time and explain that his turkey is to be delivered to his cousin’s house instead. He also insists the address for the bill not be changed, although he intends to get individual presents as well this year.

He cuts through the park on the way home, feeling pleased with himself. There’s a children’s play area by the top gate, with swings and slides at one end and a climbing wall and skate park at the other. Bilbo pauses for a moment, his breath hanging white in the frosty air, and watches the little ones playing while their parents stand by complaining about the cold. That’ll be Drogo and Prim soon.

There are only two older boys at the climbing wall, one dark-haired and shinning up and down on the holds like a monkey, and the other sitting on a bench, staring at his phone. The seated one is blonde, with the faintest suggestion of a fluffy beard, and he looks vaguely familiar. Perhaps a first-year student, thinks Bilbo, and is sure of it when the boy looks up at the sound of someone calling his name.

“Fili! I told you to meet me at the gate,” says the handsome man from last week, and Bilbo gapes. 

“Sorry Uncle,” says Fili cheerfully, and pockets his phone. The dark-haired younger boy joins them and they walk off together, unaware of Bilbo’s staring.


	5. Day 5

On Monday, just after lunchtime, Mr Handsomely Grumpy returns to the library again. Bilbo wanders over from where he has been shelving books, careful to stand where he cannot see the man’s computer screen.

“By the way,” he says quietly. “You might want to make sure you close all your tabs at the end of a session.”

The man looks startled, and scowls at Bilbo. “I will,” he says shortly.

“Good,” says Bilbo, unable to help himself. Perhaps he just wants to keep talking to the man. “You know, the University’s Counselling service is free for students. I went to them myself, before I came out to my family, and they were very helpful.”

It really is an impressive scowl, although now the poor fellow looks somewhat confused as well. Bilbo can’t really blame him. Saying that was probably the least professional thing he’s ever done, and he regrets it instantly.

“I’m not a student,” says the man. He stands up suddenly, and grabs his coat and scarf, striding towards the doors. Before Bilbo can say more, he’s gone.


	6. Day 6

On Tuesday lunchtime there’s no sign of the handsome man. Bilbo had closed down the computer’s tabs again after the previous day’s incident and it was mostly shopping websites, Star Wars Lego and the like, so now he feels absolutely dreadful and has been hoping to apologise. The poor fellow had only been Christmas shopping after all.

He sighs, and dunks a hobnob in his tea. The door squeaks. Bilbo looks up one last time, hopefully, and the biscuit in his hand drops into the mug with a small splash.

“Hello,” says Mr Handsomely Grumpy, marching up to the desk with a grim expression. 

“I’m so sorry about yesterday,” blurts Bilbo, and the man shakes his head, cutting him off before he can start babbling.

“Doesn’t matter. May I ask your name?” 

“It’s Bilbo. I’m Bilbo Baggins,” says Bilbo, hoping this isn’t going to lead to an official complaint, although it would serve him right if it did.

“Bilbo,” repeats the man. He has a faint, unplaceable accent that makes it sound almost exotic. “You came out, you said. So. I’m Thorin. Would you be willing to let me buy you a coffee tomorrow after you close?”

Bilbo gapes in astonishment. “Yes,” he says, only half-aware of the enormous grin spreading across his face. “Yes, I would. Yes.”


	7. Day 7

The date is lovely.

Thorin, who has a lovely name, meets him after work and takes him to a lovely place called “Bombur’s Bistro” where they have a lovely coffee, which starts off rather awkward and not particularly lovely until the lovely Bombur herself appears with a pair of “seasonal specials” on the house which are very lovely and turn out to have plum brandy in.

Coffee ends up going so well it turns into a lovely meal, and they have a lovely conversation, and Thorin has the most lovely smile, and they possibly drink slightly too much lovely wine, until the lovely waiter explains that the Bistro is closing, and then lovely Thorin insists on getting the taxi to take Bilbo home first, which is lovely of him, and the journey seems to be over far too quickly even though they get lost on the way. 

Bilbo stares up at the lovely ceiling of his lovely bedroom as it spins gently over his head. There was even a lovely kiss, too, in the taxi as Thorin said goodnight. Just a quick brush of lips, over almost before Bilbo realised it had begun, but oh, it was lovely. Just lovely.

He giggles to himself and falls asleep still dressed.


	8. Day 8

Thursday is hellish. Bilbo’s cat, Gollum, did not approve of his master’s late night, and Bilbo is woken by the unmistakable sound of a hairball being thrown up on his duvet. He is late for work after clearing it up, and unable to stomach breakfast, so he works his way through the Library’s biscuit tin instead and feels utterly miserable.

At lunchtime his head is still pounding, and he is only grateful Thorin doesn’t drop by to see him mournfully nibbling another custard cream and sipping a very sugary cup of tea. He’s pretty sure Thorin drank less, plus he’s bigger, so it’s very unlikely he was quite as hammered as Bilbo. He hopes he didn’t do anything awful and put Thorin off completely.

“You Baggins?” asks someone, slapping a pair of enormous tattooed hands on the desk.

“Can I help you?” Bilbo asks frostily, wincing at the noise.

“No,” replies the giant, bald, bearded man, as if the question was ridiculous. There’s a pause before he speaks again. “Asked you a question, Sonny.” 

Bilbo puts down his tea and lifts his chin. “As a matter of fact I am. Who are you?” 

The man stares at him hard before suddenly bursting into laughter. Very loud laughter. “Aye, you’ll do,” he says cheerfully. He reaches over the desk to filch a biscuit from the tin before Bilbo can stop him, and walks out of the library without another word. It’s all very strange.


	9. Day 9

Thorin doesn’t come in on Friday either, and Bilbo isn’t at all worried, obviously, although he is wondering how soon he can send another text now that he has Thorin’s number. He sent one yesterday saying thank you, but there’s been no reply.

At the end of the day he emerges from work thoroughly distracted, and almost screams when a dark figure looms out of the night towards him.

“Bilbo?” says Thorin, because that’s who it is. He speaks rapidly, as if the words have been rehearsed. “Listen, I’m sorry about the other night, I wasn’t trying to get you plastered. I wondered if you wanted to try again, maybe go somewhere else? Since it’s Friday. You might have plans already. If you’d rather not, I understand.” 

“How long have you been waiting here?” asks Bilbo, one hand still pressed to his chest where his heart continues to hammer with shock. Thorin’s nose is pink from the cold.

“Not long. My offices are just over there,” he says, nodding in the direction of the large building across the road from the Philosophy Department, beyond the bollards that mark the edge of Campus. “I didn’t want to come in, in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case you didn’t want to see me,” says Thorin, frowning at his shoes. “Dwalin said you seemed cross.”

Dwalin, presumably, was the alarming biscuit-thief from the day before. Bilbo considers, and elects not to admit that he has spent the whole day pining. 

“So you thought you’d scare the daylights out of me instead,” he says, and grins at Thorin’s stricken expression. He takes Thorin’s arm, patting his sleeve reassuringly as they set off together.


	10. Day 10

Gollum wakes Bilbo with his usual hissing charm, demanding food and refusing any attempt at petting. Bilbo spoons out catfood as he waits for the kettle to boil for a cup of tea, and reflects on the previous evening.

The University’s Library is walking distance from the Green Dragon, a Vegetarian gastro-pub that serves really excellent food. According to Thorin, they also keep a good cellar. Bilbo had shrugged, knowing very little of such things, and let Thorin order them a bottle of red which even he could tell was excellent.

They had talked more easily this time. They even managed to discuss politics without falling out, a rare thing for Bilbo, who allowed himself to curse the short-sighted idiocy of the recent Brexit vote with some fairly choice language and was delighted to find Thorin agreeing with him entirely. Thorin’s family, it transpires, is from Eastern Europe. He lives in a suburb out West with his sister, who is a widow, and her two boys, and he works at his family’s engineering firm.

Bilbo considers these tiny shining gems of information, wheedled out of the man at great length. Unlike Bilbo, Thorin does not like to talk about himself, blinking rapidly at questions as if unaccustomed to them. It’s remarkable that someone so stern-looking at first could turn out to be such an awkward, sincere sort of fellow, not to mention devastatingly attractive, and very good at kissing. Bilbo has never kissed someone with a beard before, which was softer than he’d expected, and Thorin had tasted a little of wine and smelled of some smoky cologne. He had laid a hand on Bilbo’s cheek, and Bilbo had felt so utterly enraptured that he had to fight down the impulse to invite the fellow back home for the night. 

He didn’t. He doesn’t want to spoil anything by moving too fast. Already, Bilbo thinks he might enjoy knowing everything there is to know about Thorin, and if that takes time, so be it. He has always enjoyed a challenge, after all.


	11. Day 11

The horror can’t be put off any longer. It is time to do some Christmas shopping.

Bilbo heads bravely into the centre of town. For various aunts and uncles he wrestles his way through the braying crowds to pick up bath salts, gardening gloves, boxes of York Fruits and scented candles. For Gollum he picks up a small tin of salmon. Butterbur’s Wine Merchant isn’t too busy, so Bilbo takes his time selecting some really good whisky for Drogo, then heads to the jewellers. Since Prim became pregnant her hands have swollen and she’s been wearing her wedding ring on a ribbon about her neck, so Bilbo is hoping to find a pretty gold chain to replace it. Once the baby arrives, he could get her one of those pendants with the baby’s fingerprint on to wear with it instead.

In the window are some rather nice cufflinks, hexagon-shaped blue stones in a plain silver setting. The colour reminds him of Thorin’s eyes. It might be a little too forward of him, Bilbo realises, but he certainly doesn’t want to come back any later in the month, so he buys them anyway, just to be prepared.

He is more than glad to join Thorin at Bombur’s Bistro again for a late lunch, and the sight of him rising from his seat to greet Bilbo with a smile instantly improves the ghastly day. Bilbo risks another of those plum brandy coffees and bemoans the horrors of shopping until their food arrives, his tummy fluttering a little with pleasure whenever he can prompt a chuckle from Thorin.

The meal is excellent and unusual, as are the staff. In particular, today’s waiter has an impressively waxed moustache and is wearing a hat indoors, and Bilbo could swear the fellow winks at Thorin when he takes their order. Still, for an apple strudel like Bombur’s, Bilbo is willing to forgive the eccentricity.


	12. Day 12

Mid-morning Bilbo’s phone beeps and there is a text from Thorin suggesting lunch, to which Bilbo hastily replies in the affirmative. He had rather thought they might not see each other today, given that they only last met up yesterday.

“It’s my turn to take you somewhere,” says Bilbo, when Thorin arrives at the library. 

“I’ve only taken you to Bombur’s,” protests Thorin, smiling and following in any case. 

A few months ago Ori first took Bilbo to her brother’s new teashop, but he has seldom been anywhere else for his lunch since that day. The shop is a little cave of dark wood panelling and crisp white tablecloths, with shelves of rare teas in glass kilner jars along the back of the counter. There are no teabags, only pots of loose-leaf tea and tea-strainers, and milk has to be specially requested, although everything comes with a slice of lemon on the side and there are 2 types of sugar and a pot of honey in the middle of every table. Best of all, the festive decorations extend no further than some artfully heaped pinecones and a bit of spray-on fake snow in the window. Bilbo loves it.

Most days Dori is behind the counter, but today it’s some girl Bilbo’s never seen before. At least, he thinks it’s a girl.

“Dori took the day off after the Markets at the weekend,” the probably-girl explains, and smiles at Thorin, twirling a lock of ginger hair about their finger. “Fancy seeing you here, Thorin. Bofur said he’d had you in yesterday. Money to burn, or have you got someone to impress? Do tell.”

“Hello, Nori,” says Thorin. “I think we’ll sit in the window.” 

It’s the furthest table from the counter. It’s a bit of a shock to realise Thorin and this person already know each other, but Bilbo doesn’t dare ask why, since Thorin already seems irritated. At least the sandwiches are good.


	13. Day 13

Ori is agog when Bilbo arrives a little after 9am and distinctly out of breath. 

“Are you going out with Thorin, now? Did he stay over? Is that why you’re late?” asks Ori, and Bilbo glares at her.

“No-one’s been staying over! I was only five minutes late,” he snaps. “And if you must know, I was cleaning up cat sick. Gollum brought another mouse in yesterday and I didn’t get it away from him in time.”

“Oh,” says Ori sadly. “I suppose Nori does tend to exaggerate.”

That gives Bilbo pause, and he chooses his words carefully. “Is Nori a… relative, of yours, Ori?” he asks.

“Oh, yes!” she replies. “They’re my sibling. Dori’s my brother, he’s the eldest, and then there’s Nori, then me. So you’re not going out with Thorin?”

“How do you know Thorin? Does everyone know Thorin?” asks Bilbo, ignoring the question. He recalls an HR training session about gender and sexuality and is all at once heartily glad he didn’t skip it. Ori is a student volunteer, a shy girl in her first year at the University, and Bilbo is very fond of her. He would hate to cause any offence. 

“Well, you know,” says Ori, shrugging so deeply she almost disappears inside the loops of her ever-present scarf. Evidently it’s her turn to ignore the question. “Anyway, Dori’s ever so sorry he missed you both. He was crazy busy with the stall going so well this weekend, but he’ll be at the shop for the rest of the week, and he said to tell you he’s hoping you’ll pop in.”

The conversation moves on, and Bilbo’s not so curious that he wants to return to the subject, especially not if it means divulging any more about this fledgeling relationship. He doesn’t believe in jinxes, but all the same.


	14. Day 14

Somewhat reluctantly, Bilbo returns to the teashop with Thorin on Wednesday lunchtime. There’s no sign of the person called Nori, and Dori greets them both with delight.

“How lovely to see you!” he exclaims, beckoning them up to the counter. It’s only once they’re both there that he looks pointedly upwards, and Bilbo realises there is a large bunch of mistletoe hanging over their heads. That definitely wasn’t present on Monday.

“Dori, your tea is excellent, but I’m not kissing you,” jokes Bilbo, and Dori pulls an exaggeratedly sour face.

“Don’t feel obliged,” he huffs. 

Thorin glances over at Bilbo, and then something utterly unexpected happens. He grins, looking altogether wicked, and bends down, tilting his head. Bilbo responds without thinking, and before he knows quite what’s going on, Thorin is properly snogging him in the middle of a public place. It’s a hell of a kiss, and Bilbo finds his own arms creeping upwards to wrap around Thorin’s neck and a little muffled noise escaping him that’s practically a moan of pleasure.

“Yes, that’s plenty, you can stop now,” says Dori, and Bilbo is released, knees wobbling and panting for breath. Dori looks gleeful, and from the back room of the shop Nori and the waiter from Bombur’s can be seen cackling madly.

Presumably this means they are going out, then.


	15. Day 15

 

It’s mid-morning when Bilbo returns from shelving to find Dr Grey waiting by the desk, his long thin frame leaning casually against the wall and one foot tapping.

“Bilbo, can you stop by my office this lunchtime?” he asks. “No need to panic, just a few things we need to discuss.”

“No problem, Gandalf,” says Bilbo, because they might be on first-name terms, but one doesn’t simply say no to the University Provost. Gandalf beams at him, and swans off again, oblivious as ever to the chaos in his wake. Bilbo scrambles for his phone and sends a quick text to Thorin.

_“Sorry, I can’t do lunch after all, the Provost just asked me to his office for a meeting. Can we do tomorrow instead?”_

The reply comes 15 minutes later. _“Lunch meeting. After work?”_

Bilbo grimaces. _“Thursday is late-night opening, I won’t be out until past nine. Could do something after that but would have to get home & feed Gollum first or bastard will throw up on my bed again.”_

_“OK. Tomorrow evening?”_

Tomorrow evening is the University Chapel’s Carol Service, which Bilbo has always attended, well, religiously, despite being an atheist himself. It would make for a very peculiar sort of date. He chews his lip, unable to decide what response to give. He still hasn’t when it’s time to go and see Gandalf.

Dr Gandalf Grey’s study is on the upper floors of one of the oldest buildings in the University, a large, pleasantly airy room with tall leaded windows overlooking the central Quad. He has already left his desk and is ensconced in a comfortable armchair by the window when Bilbo arrives. A selection of sandwiches and tea has been laid out on the low table beside him.

“Bilbo, my dear fellow,” says Gandalf, ushering Bilbo to the second, somewhat smaller, armchair. “Firstly, about Christmas. When is your departmental meal? I assume you have not forgotten that this year I shall also be attending.”

“Yes,” lies Bilbo. “Just waiting for two places to get back to me, I’ll have to call them again.”

It has slipped his mind entirely. Gandalf has a tradition of working his way around all the University’s Christmas parties, taking in two or three departments each year, and this year the Library is one of the lucky ones. Bilbo is only half-aware of the conversation after that, racking his brain for somewhere to book that will be suitable, so that when Gandalf finally releases him an hour later, he isn’t really paying full attention.

“You can let me know about the meal tomorrow,” says Gandalf. “I shall see you at the Carol Service, of course.”

“Of course,” says Bilbo, and groans inwardly as he realises what he’s just said. In the end he does text Thorin asking if he wants to come along too, but Thorin merely replies _“Sorry, not my thing”._

Bilbo kicks a shelf viciously, and stubs his toe.


	16. Day 16

 

 

Dori raises his eyebrows when Bilbo goes to get his lunch, a sandwich to go since his lunchbreak is almost over, and he has spent most of it calling around restaurants for a Christmas dinner booking.

“Trouble in paradise?” Dori asks. “Your young man came in on his own yesterday too.”

Bilbo smiles tightly. It isn’t as if he and Dori haven’t chatted before now, and if he knows Thorin too, such conversations are evidently going to be hard to avoid. “Clashing lunch meetings,” he explains.

Seated near the counter is a fellow whom Bilbo has seen before, although never spoken to. He has a large beard, and looks probably not much older than Dori but with fluffy hair that is snow-white instead of steel-grey. He leans forward, fixing Bilbo with a keen eye. 

“Works himself too hard, that one. I hope you aren’t the same,” he says, and sticks out his right hand. “I’m Balin. At your service.”

Bilbo shakes the man’s hand and is faintly alarmed by the strength of his grip. “My goodness, everyone seems to know Thorin,” he says, only partly joking.

“He is my cousin,” says Balin, amiably enough. “And the finest man I know, although I’ll admit getting to know him can be a challenge. Nonetheless, I think you will find those of us lucky enough to be Thorin’s friends are very loyal to him, Mr Baggins.”

Dori hands over the sandwich, and Bilbo pays for it and leaves, wondering if he has just been given some sort of shovel talk. It seems rather a cheek, if so. They are two grown adults and besides, their first date is barely a fortnight past.

The Carol Service that night is beautiful, and Bilbo spends almost all of it thinking about Thorin.


	17. Day 17

Just as Bilbo is getting out of the shower his phone rings and he almost trips over Gollum in his haste to answer it. It’s worth being hissed at when he hears Thorin’s voice, suggesting a walk along the river that Bilbo readily accepts. They haven’t seen one another for two whole days, and Bilbo is giddy as a teenager as he chooses his outfit. On a whim, he decides to wear his favourite jacket, made of burgundy corduroy, although it isn’t very warm.

He regrets it within the hour, struggling to keep from shivering, and sniffing almost constantly. When Thorin notices, Bilbo attempts to wave it off, but already Thorin is unbuttoning his own heavy peacoat. 

“Come here,” he says, holding it open. The offer is irresistible. Bilbo snuggles into the warmth, sneaking his arms around Thorin’s middle with grateful relief as Thorin wraps him in a hug, chuckling. 

“You smell nice,” mumbles Bilbo idiotically. He hums into Thorin’s jumper, nuzzling against it, breathing in the scents of wool and soap and cologne, and just the hint of something more sour and exciting beneath that actually makes his mouth water a little. 

Thorin feels nice, too, a deliciously solid barrel of a man with a nice bit of padding for comfortable cuddles. From up close, Bilbo can see a little sprinkling of dark hair at the collar of Thorin’s shirt, and deliberately tucks his head under Thorin’s chin, squinting in case he can see how far it goes down. It’s a failed attempt, sadly, though now Bilbo is wondering. Bilbo’s own body hair might be kindly described as “sparse”, but the backs of Thorin’s hands are quite darkly furred. He could well be hairy all over. The thought is deeply exciting to Bilbo, who finds himself suddenly imagining it, thinking of how that would feel under his hands, the scents and flavours that might cling to warm skin and hair. 

“I know what we should do tomorrow,” says Thorin, and by now Bilbo’s mind is well ahead of matters. What couldn’t he do to Thorin with a whole Sunday at his disposal? 

“Yes?” he asks, leaning back. He hasn’t been properly kissed by Thorin since Wednesday. Bilbo isn’t very good at initiating such things but he would very much like another one of those, and surely Thorin can read the desire that must be written all over Bilbo’s face. 

“We’ll go to Dori’s stall at the Christmas Markets,” says Thorin. Is it Bilbo’s imagination or does he suddenly sound a little hoarse? “Warm you up with some tea.” 

“...yes,” says Bilbo after a pause. He had told himself, hadn’t he, that he wasn’t going to rush things. “Great. What a good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLUS BONUS ART!! [Chilly Cuddles](http://rutobuka2.tumblr.com/post/154634756074/some-fanart-of-ahiddenkittys-bagginshield) by [rutobuka](http://rutobuka2.tumblr.com/)!
> 
>   
> 


	18. Day 18

The queue for Dori’s stall is thronged, as he busily brews for a long line of customers, never spilling a drop. Beside him Ori is dipping baskets of little donuts in hot oil, draining them and drenching them in powdered sugar, and the smell of fried dough and hot spiced tea is truly heavenly. A sign explains the choice of flavours inside: strawberry jam, chocolate praline, or spiced fig compote, which sounds delicious. It’s a clever idea, one Bilbo hasn’t seen before, and he’s eager to try some. 

To one side of the counter stands Thorin, talking to Balin and sharing steaming hot donuts from an oil-blotched paper bag. Balin is wearing a puffy red coat, and as he raises a hand to greet Bilbo a small child notices him and stops dead in her tracks.

“MUM,” shrieks the child, at ear-splitting volume. “IT’S SANTA.”

There is some resemblance, thinks Bilbo, and it may not even be the first time such a thing has happened, since Balin merely chuckles as the girl’s mother stammers an apology. Then the girl spots Bilbo. “AND AN ELF, MUM, AN ELF!” she yells, louder if anything, pointing at Bilbo’s ears. 

They are rather large ears, and oddly pointed. It’s a Baggins family trait, and one of which Bilbo has always been self-conscious. The mother is beside herself by now, and Bilbo can do nothing but smile and nod along with the game until the wretched infant has been dragged away. Ghastly things, children, he thinks, feeling hot and bothered and embarrassed.

Balin offers him a donut. “Looks like we have a business plan for next year, Bilbo,” he says, and winks.

Thorin wraps an arm about his shoulders and leans down. “I like them,” he mumbles, and presses a kiss to the tip of one ear.

Suddenly, so does Bilbo. Apparently one is never too old to discover a new erogenous zone.


	19. Day 19

Term has ended, finally, and Bilbo lies in bed on Monday morning relishing it. Not for long, since the cat needs feeding and is disinclined to wait around on his master’s leisure. For such a scrawny old beast, Gollum gets through a remarkable quantity of cat food.

It’s high time Bilbo got on with his decorations, too. Prim and Drogo aren’t coming on the day itself so there seems little point to bothering indoors, but Bilbo cannot simply ignore the oak tree in the front garden. His mother was always very firm about that.

First, he pops the popcorn, three large pans full, then whilst that cools down he bobs to the nearest Garden Centre. Back home he puts on a carols playlist and sits down at the kitchen table, threading a bodkin and stringing the cold popcorn into long garlands. The process is repeated with a few packets of dried cranberries, and then he takes the whole lot outside plus a ladder from the shed and an old battered cardboard box rescued from the back bedroom wardrobe, which contains the lights and the star. 

The lights go on first, wound carefully through the gnarled bare branches, and then the pretty red and white garlands of popcorn and cranberries. He hangs seed-studded fat balls like baubles, until the old tree is all dressed and ready to feed the birds for the festive season. 

It just needs the star. It’s an ancient plastic gold thing that his father drilled holes in so it can be tied to one of the topmost branches, but when Bilbo checks the box, it’s vanished. After some hunting around he finds it under his bed, where Gollum has dragged it away to gnaw on with his nine remaining teeth, and manages to wrench it from the creature’s paws with minimal bloodshed. 

The highest branch of an old oak tree is not easy to reach when one is barely five-and-a-half feet in one’s socks. Bilbo climbs the rickety ladder to the top and stretches up as far as he can, knotting the hairy garden twine with the very tips of his fingers. He can’t help thinking it would be much easier to do this if he was tall, like Thorin. 

Next year maybe he can ask Thorin to help. The thought cheers him for the rest of the day.


	20. Day 20

For the first time in his life, Bilbo is in a Karaoke Bar. It was meant to be a quiet drink with Thorin, but then they bumped into Thorin’s oldest nephew and his friends and got dragged along, and now Fili and Ori are scanning through a list of songs excitedly. Across the booth sit two exchange students, a pretty girl called Tauriel and her brother. Bilbo doesn’t know his name, but he seems determined to embody the worst stereotypes of the French, sniffy and aloof. Perhaps he’s just shy.

“Have they got Johnny Cash?” asks Fili. “Uncle does a great Ring of Fire!”

“No,” says Thorin at once, then scratches his beard, relenting. “Leonard Cohen, if they’ve got any.”

It seems unlikely to Bilbo, but possible, given the poor man only died last month. He isn’t sure how Karaoke bar songs get chosen, and peers over Fili’s shoulder to peruse the selection.

Fili queues a song almost immediately. “Hallelujah!” he says, handing the microphone to Thorin with a grin.

Thorin’s singing is excellent, because apparently Thorin keeps surprising Bilbo like this. If he thought the man’s speaking voice sounded good, his singing is practically erotic, and liable to give a chap uncomfortable dreams. He catches Bilbo’s eye at one point and smirks, as if pleased with the effect he’s having. Bastard.

“Very nice,” says Tauriel, clapping politely when he sits back down.

“Yes,” agrees her brother dryly, and then, in French, _“So festive. These people, they’re either rowdy or depressing, it’s unbearable.”_

“What did that mean, Legolas?” asks Fili, and by the blank faces around him, Bilbo realises he’s the only non-French person in the room who understood it.

“I said it was a good tribute,” replies Legolas.

Bilbo stands up, and reaches over Ori’s shoulder to queue up a song he spotted a moment earlier. On the screen appear the English lyrics to “La Vie en Rose”, but as Bilbo takes the microphone he closes his eyes and thinks back to his mother singing in the kitchen. As a girl she had lived in Paris for a while, and passed her love of France - the romance, the language, its songs, and not least its cuisine - on to her son. He’s pretty sure he can remember the words to this one.

 _“When he takes me in his arms, he whispers to me,”_ begins Bilbo, in French, a little wobbly but not wholly off-key, and hoping his accent is not too terrible. He opens his eyes to see the colour drain from Legolas’s face so quickly and completely that the whole booth notices. 

It’s a pretty song, however, and by the time it’s ended there doesn’t seem to be much bad feeling left. Tauriel applauds again, and her brother manages a smile, nodding and looking chastened.

Afterwards Bilbo claims it’s past his bedtime, and excuses himself. Thorin follows him to the door. “That was beautiful,” he says, looking positively adoring.

“Nonsense,” says Bilbo, squirming at the compliment. “Yours was.” 

Thorin, who seems never to be shy of public affection, kisses him goodnight until Fili starts making puking noises, and Bilbo leaves laughing.


	21. Day 21

The Green Dragon has managed to fit the Librarians in for their Christmas lunch at the last possible minute, and Bilbo has apologised already several times for taking up some of his staff’s precious holiday. He tried to stress that no-one was obliged to attend, and yet most people are here. One could feel proud of that. He does try to be a good boss.

Ori however is poking at her starter without eating it, and Bilbo leans over to ask if something is the matter. She sighs, and looks a bit pitiful. “I don’t like green food,” she admits. “Have they got any chips?”

Gandalf, seated on Bilbo’s other side, overhears and laughs uproariously. A waiter scampers over at the sound and in fairly short order, Ori’s delicious spinach and goats’ cheese tart has been replaced by a large dish of chunky-cut chips and some homemade ketchup. Gandalf waggles an empty wine bottle at them and it is replaced with a full one without a murmur. The Green Dragon staff are wonderful, and Bilbo is going to leave a massive tip.

“Will you be seeing Thorin over Christmas?” asks Gandalf, pouring himself yet another glass of red.

“I should hope so,” says Bilbo, before it occurs to him that he hasn’t ever mentioned his relationship with Thorin to Gandalf. It’s too late now, evidently, and Bilbo silently curses the efficiency of the University gossip mill. “Not on the day, of course,” he continues, as smoothly as he can. “I mean, he has a family, I can hardly steal him away on Christmas day.”

Gandalf looks at him with that infuriating twinkly-eyed expression of his, looking far too sharp and knowing for someone wearing a sequined santa hat. “You might be surprised, Bilbo. Asking wouldn’t hurt.”


	22. Day 22

Bilbo has been thinking about Gandalf’s peculiar suggestion all day. He and Thorin are visiting a new exhibition of ancient Viking Artifacts at one of the City’s Museums, and Bilbo has managed to be horribly distracted the entire time, not only because Thorin’s hand keeps resting on the small of Bilbo’s back (and sometimes lower down) as they read the labels on the exhibits.

“Is something the matter?” asks Thorin eventually, and Bilbo sighs. There’s a bench nearby, so they sit down for a minute. Bilbo clasps his hands together to keep from fidgeting, and decides to be brave.

“Thorin. We’ve been seeing one another for a few weeks now, and I like you very much. Obviously I wouldn’t dream of stealing you away from your nephews and such on Christmas Day, but I just wondered... for Christmas Eve, if you might like to have dinner at my house?” 

Thorin beams at him, then looks suddenly aghast. “On Saturday?” he asks, as if checking. When Bilbo nods, Thorin groans. “I can’t. I really can’t, I’m afraid, I have a family thing.”

“Oh,” says Bilbo quietly. “Of course, I understand.” 

They sit in silence for a moment. It would be silly to get upset. Thorin keeps clearing his throat as if trying to think of something to say, until the situation becomes awkward, and Bilbo stands up, holding out a hand to Thorin and smiling.

“I’d best make the most of you for now, then,” he says. “Come on, or they’ll have stopped serving at the cafe and I’m famished.”


	23. Day 23

Prim and Drogo come around to exchange presents, and Bilbo exclaims over the size of Prim’s belly as she strokes it proudly. They give Bilbo a box of homemade gingerbread along with a very pretty book about something called “Hygge”, and thank him for the turkey, which has been delivered that morning.

Drogo is pleased with his whisky, and jokes that for once Prim won’t be stealing a dram here and there, and Prim slaps his hand affectionately and then cries over her necklace. She blames the pregnancy hormones, although Bilbo has not the least idea if that’s reasonable or not.

They have a very pleasant meal together, with second helpings for everyone and third helpings for Prim, who points out that it’s really only her second, since the first plateful was just for the baby. Afterwards Drogo breaks open his bottle and shares a small snifter with Bilbo. It’s a good peaty malt, and Prim sniffs at her husband’s glass wistfully.

Bilbo’s phone rings, with Thorin’s name on the screen, and he hesitates.

“Oh go on, don’t mind us,” says Prim, bright-eyed with curiosity, so Bilbo shrugs and takes the call.

“Tomorrow,” says Thorin, launching directly into the conversation as he tends to do. “Are you free? Could you come over to ours?”

“Wait, now, what? You said you had some family thing, Thorin, I don’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t be. Dís suggested it, she’d love you to come, about 3 o’clock if you can?”

Dís is Thorin’s sister, whom Bilbo has not yet met. “I’m not sure I understand. What’s the event, a meal or something?”

There’s a pause before Thorin answers. “It’s a meal, yes. You’ll come?

Still unsure, Bilbo turns to see Prim and Drogo nodding furiously at him. “Um. That would be lovely,” he says helplessly. “I’m sorry, I’ve got my cousins over, I can’t talk long.”

“That’s fine,” says Thorin, his voice so warm with pleasure it gives Bilbo tingles just to hear it. “I’m glad you’re coming. It’s 1 Luin Hall Road, do you want the postcode?”

“No, no, I know Luin Hall Road,” says Bilbo. “Where they have the markets. 3 o’clock.”

“I’ll see you then, Bilbo. Good-bye.” 

He’s hung up before Bilbo can ask why it’s so early, or even say goodbye himself, which is not unusual. Prim is clapping her hands like a happy seal and squealing. 

“Oh, Bilbo, he really likes you!” she says, grinning, and Bilbo can’t help grinning back.


	24. Day 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hanukkah! And endless thanks to [Sam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/samalander/pseuds/samalander) for their generous help with my attempts at Jewish accuracy.

“Hello! Gut yantif!” cries Thorin’s sister, throwing open the door, and Bilbo steps inside the house with his own “Merry Christmas!” dying on his lips.

He looks around himself. It’s a very handsome Victorian Gothic end-terrace, lots of original features, polished floorboards, and a notable absence of any indoor tree of the sort one might hang baubles off. Instead on the windowsill is a distinctively branched candelabra with 9 stems and only two unlit candles in it, one at the centre and another at the farthest right.

Balin, Dwalin, Fili and Kili, and for some reason Dori, all stand about, talking loudly and picking at the food. Thorin comes over to greet him with a kiss. 

“You’re Jewish,” says Bilbo in amazement.

There’s a pause as everyone except Thorin turns to stare at Bilbo in shock. Thorin has gone red, and says nothing. Dís throws up her hands and mutters at the ceiling in a language Bilbo doesn’t speak, then flings an arm around her guest’s shoulders and drags him bodily towards the table.

“Bilbo, I’m so sorry,” she says, relieving Bilbo of the wine he has brought as a gift and pushing a glass into his hands. “Imagine inviting someone to the first night of Hanukkah and not telling them! I don’t know what you see in him, truly.”

“At first I assumed you knew,” grumbles Thorin, stepping up behind Bilbo, who gives him a Look. “And then I wasn’t sure how to broach it. Forgive me.” He does at least look appropriately shamefaced. 

“I’m sure I will,” says Bilbo grimly. “One day.” 

Dís fills Bilbo’s glass up, laughing. Everyone is very welcoming and thoroughly cross with Thorin, and it isn’t long before Bilbo is enjoying himself enormously.


	25. Day 25

It’s rather nice to have Christmas Day not be such a big event, after all. Bilbo remains in his pyjamas and robe when Thorin appears on his doorstep that morning, still very contrite and holding a tupperware box stuffed with leftover donuts - or rather _“sufganiyot”_ , as Bilbo now knows they are called. His sister, it appears, was very insistent when she discovered Bilbo would be alone on Christmas Day.

There is a serious but satisfying conversation while Bilbo makes them both some hot chocolate, covering the importance of trust and also of understanding, and not least of using one’s words. After that seriousness is largely abandoned, and most of the rest of the day is spent on the sofa in front of the fire, with plenty of cushions and festively snug blankets. There are occasional forays into the kitchen for more hot chocolate or sandwiches, eaten without plates so that there are crumbs everywhere and Bilbo doesn’t even care.

At one point Thorin goes to fetch more firewood and Bilbo nips to the bedroom for a few useful supplies. He never does get dressed, and by the end of the day Thorin has been entirely forgiven for yesterday’s embarrassment. 

When it’s time to go home and light the next candle they have a bit of trouble locating Thorin’s underwear. It transpires Gollum has dragged them away to his nest under Bilbo’s bed and is very reluctant to relinquish his prize. Thankfully, Thorin is not allergic to cat hair.

Joyously exhausted, Bilbo crawls back into his bed and is fast asleep before 9 o’clock. It’s quite the best Christmas he can remember.


	26. Day 26

When Thorin returns on Boxing day he looks surprised to see Bilbo already dressed in his walking boots and his warmest outdoor jacket ( _not_ the burgundy corduroy).

“I don’t know how your family do things,” sniffs Bilbo, “But in my culture, you go for a good long country walk on Boxing Day. It’s traditional.”

“You have a culture, now?” asks Thorin, and the joke is so dry it takes Bilbo a moment to recognise it as one. He locks the door to Bag End behind them and punches Thorin’s arm affectionately.

“How dare you. It’s a good thing I’m falling in love with you or I might be dreadfully offended,” he says, only registering the words as they are already leaving his mouth. Bilbo splutters, horrified at himself again, until Thorin stops him, gently taking both his hands and smiling.

“Bilbo. I’ve wanted to say it, but I didn’t want to scare you,” says Thorin. “I’m falling in love with you, too.” 

“Oh,” says Bilbo, and feels himself almost on the verge of tears. They’ve kissed before now, of course - and done rather more than just kiss - but there’s something about this one. Halfway down Bagshot Row, in front of Mr Twofoot’s garden gate, Thorin kisses Bilbo and it feels like a promise.


	27. Day 27

 

 

There’s another bank holiday today, what with Christmas having fallen on the weekend, so Bilbo and Thorin have an extra day together.  It’s tempting to spend it on the sofa again, or the bed, but… there’s a very good Antiques Market held at Luin Hall Road on the last Tuesday morning of every month, and thanks to the Library’s opening hours Bilbo rarely gets to go.  

Thorin agrees, and points out they can always go back to Bag End afterwards.

He strolls in Bilbo’s wake, not attempting to keep up as Bilbo bustles his way towards the second-hand books section.  The Durins live practically on the market’s doorstep, after all, so it’s no surprise that Thorin stops to exchange a few words with almost everyone.

Bilbo pauses on his way before a particularly glorious tableful of antique medical grotesqueries.  It’s not the first time this stall has caught his eye, although they rarely have books.

“Whatever’s this, Óin?  I must say I’m stumped,” asks Bilbo, gingerly taking up a small golden object, a curled-up tube with the outside end delicately flared.  It looks a bit like a very tiny tuba.  

“Dumped?” says the stallholder, affronted.  Óin is a retired GP who insists, against all evidence, that his hearing is perfectly clear.  “It wasn’t dumped anywhere, it’s from a very trusted dealer of mine!”

“Your trust is well placed.  A fine 19th Century gilded ear-trumpet, if I am not mistaken!” says a familiar voice from behind Bilbo.

Bilbo sets the object down carefully and turns. “Gandalf,” he says, without much warmth.  It’s never much fun bumping into your boss in public.

“Bilbo, my very dear fellow,” replies Gandalf, though his gaze roams the massed shoppers just past Bilbo’s shoulder.  “Ah!  And Thorin too, how wonderful.  Fancy running into you both like this.”  Bilbo isn’t sure he quite likes the way Gandalf’s eyebrows waggle as he says it.

“Hello, Gandalf,” says Thorin, emerging from the crowd.

“I’m afraid I can’t stop,” continues Gandalf, as if anyone had asked him to.  “Things to do, places to be.  I shall see you back at the Library in the New Year, Bilbo.”

“Yes, um, you will,” stammers Bilbo, hoping his relief isn’t too evident.

“It really is remarkable what you can find in Libraries,” calls Gandalf as he strolls away.  “Didn’t I tell you so, Thorin?”


	28. Day 28

 

 

 

Thorin is back at work, and Bilbo’s pantry has begun to look bare, so it’s time to brave the shops once more for supplies. He also drops into a bookshop and emerges with no less than three new books about Kosher cookery. Since he’s passing, he goes to Bombur’s for something to eat and ends up deep in conversation with Bofur, the waiter with the hat, who spots Bilbo’s purchases and commences to advise him on such things as where the best Kosher butchers can be found nearby.

It reminds him of his lunch with Thorin last time he came into town, and Bilbo gasps, remembering the cufflinks suddenly. Back home he fishes them out of a drawer, already gift-wrapped by the jewellers, and calls Thorin up. 

“I can drop in on my way home,” says Thorin. “I’m finishing early, so around half three?”

“Perfect,” says Bilbo, and proceeds to get nothing at all done for the next few hours, unable to concentrate even on reading his new cookbooks. When Thorin arrives he presents him with the gift immediately. There are candles to be lit, so Thorin can’t stay long.

“I got these for you, although I don’t know if one gives gifts for Hanukkah,” explains Bilbo. “I meant them to be for Christmas, obviously. I thought you might still like them.”

He is very much hoping the gift won’t cause any offence, and is enormously relieved when Thorin’s face brightens like the sun. The cufflinks are unwrapped and Thorin immediately slips the ones he’s wearing into a pocket to be replaced by Bilbo’s gift. One is a little stiff, so Bilbo helps him fasten it, and he takes a moment to stroke the soft inner skin of Thorin’s wrist.

“Do you have plans for tomorrow afternoon?” Thorin asks abruptly, and Bilbo shakes his head. “It’s not busy at this time of year, I only need to send a few emails, so I could just go in for the morning and we could take the afternoon off, together.”

“Are you sure?” asks Bilbo, feeling his heart lifting at the mere suggestion. It isn’t just him that wants to spend as much time together as possible, it seems. “That sounds perfect, yes please.”


	29. Day 29

 

 

 

Bilbo whips off his apron when he hears the knock at the door, throwing it in a corner as he goes to greet Thorin.

“For you,” says Thorin, handing Bilbo a small parcel, and Bilbo takes it from him in surprise.

“I didn’t mean for you to get something for me in return, oh dear, thank you very much,” says Bilbo, unwrapping it anyway as he leads the way back towards the kitchen. He does like presents. Inside is a box of three beautiful silk handkerchiefs, two embroidered with oak leaves and the centre one with an acorn. 

“I bought them a while ago,” says Thorin, shrugging. “They made me think of the tree outside, and of you, and I thought with the time of year, you might like them.”

So they both bought gifts before they could be sure it would be appropriate, thinks Bilbo. He sets the handkerchiefs down on the hallway table so as to kiss Thorin thoroughly, ostensibly to thank him for the handkerchiefs, but mostly just for existing. 

Then the kitchen timer rings, and Bilbo breaks away. “That’s the rugelach, do excuse me.”

“Rugelach?” asks Thorin, following him. 

“Yes!” says Bilbo cheerfully. “I didn’t get to the Butcher, so I hope you like fish. We’ve got some herbed salmon, and I thought these gingered carrot latkes might be nice, though I don’t know how well they’ve worked, and there’s a winter salad to go with.” He gestures at the table with an oven glove, indicating Thorin should sit down, but when he sets down the tray of rugelach and turns around, Thorin is still standing in the doorway.

“Bilbo,” he says, staring at the table in astonishment. “This is… it looks wonderful. It smells wonderful. Is this just for the two of us?”

“Well, I shall have to save some of the fish for Gollum, but yes. You didn’t know I could cook, did you?” 

“I do now,” says Thorin, smiling broadly. 

The gingered carrot latkes are a reasonable success, but afterwards Thorin judges the rugelach to be the best bit. That’s fine by Bilbo. With baking, he often finds the second attempt is more successful, and there’s no need for Thorin to know that Bilbo ate the whole first batch for breakfast.


	30. Day 30

“There’s something I want to ask you about,” says Bilbo cautiously.

It’s early evening and he’s sitting with Thorin at home in Bag End, a situation which feels alarmingly natural already. On the television three figures dance gaily, singing their good mornings to each other. It turns out Thorin had never seen “Singin’ in the Rain”, and what with the news of Debbie Reynolds’ death, Bilbo is determined to educate him. A box set of Star Wars films sits on the side-table, awaiting their turn. 2016 has been ghastly, and sometimes Thorin feels like the only bright spot within it. 

“I wish I felt like that after staying up all night,” grumbles Thorin. “Go on, ask.”

“I’m not sure how to phrase it,” says Bilbo. “I don’t want to upset you.”

That gets Thorin’s full attention, and he turns to Bilbo, eyes narrowed. “Bilbo. I think I can take it.”

Bilbo is unable to resist the double entendre. “You take it very nicely, as we both know,” he says in a low voice, leaning close, and sniggers at Thorin’s flushed cheeks and brief frown.

“Don’t change the subject,” says Thorin.

“Why not?” protests Bilbo, before relenting. “Fine, then. When you first came into the Library and I put my foot in it horribly, it was because I thought you were looking up Mental Health services.”

“I was,” says Thorin simply. 

Bilbo had been hoping to hear that it was all a misunderstanding, but apparently not. However, after the near-disaster of Saturday night a few ground rules have been laid down and Thorin is doing his best to be more open. It transpires his research was because of an inherited condition in his family that he’s afraid may affect him. Gandalf was the one who advised him to use the Library, because Thorin works with his family and lives with his sister and her boys, and they are all extremely nosy.

“I see,” says Bilbo. “And, um. May I ask what you found out?”

Thorin takes Bilbo’s hand, holding it in his lap. “I found a therapist. I’ve seen her twice so far, and we’re talking about what behaviours to keep an eye out for, and how to manage the anxiety. I believe it will be useful.”

There’s the smallest tremor in his voice, as if he’s afraid of what Bilbo may say, but there’s only one thing Bilbo can even think of, clasping Thorin’s hand as tightly as he can. “I’m so proud of you, that’s marvellous. You’re marvellous, Thorin. Well done.” 

Thorin smiles at him, looking so sheepishly pleased that Bilbo has to kiss him. It’s a long while before he realises there’s one last question still unanswered, and draws back.

“So why were you looking at Lego the day after?”

Thorin rolls his eyes. “I was just clicking links and ended up there. I only came back in because there was a very attractive Librarian and I wanted to ask him out, and then I was procrastinating because I wasn’t sure how to do it. Is that everything?”

“Oh,” says Bilbo, extremely pleased. “Yes, I think that’ll do for now.”


	31. Day 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be an epilogue tomorrow, and then we're done! :3

The Gamgees’ New Year’s Eve party is an institution, and they are ecstatic at the news that Bilbo is finally bringing a plus-one along.

However, after lighting the last candles with Thorin’s family Bilbo got caught up in a fascinating conversation with Dís, about how Hanukkah runs from sundown to sundown, so technically it doesn’t end until tomorrow morning, and they’re running late by the time they reach Bagshot Row. The party is in full swing, and music has been cranked up to such a volume there’s nothing for it but to escape into the garden almost immediately.

Belle Gamgee starts bellowing out the countdown, but Thorin and Bilbo are kissing already, hidden in a topiaried corner by the pond. The chimes ring out, fireworks start popping all over the city, and Bilbo breaks away breathlessly. “Midnight, excellent, you’re coming home with me, now, right this instant.”

Thorin makes no objection. He looks a little less pleased when Bilbo pauses on the way out of the party to load him up with several objects from their host’s kitchen, and frankly confused when Bilbo takes a miniature bottle of whisky from his pocket and shoves it into Thorin’s.

Bilbo cannot keep from giggling as they stumble the few yards home, slightly drunker than perhaps he ought to be, and when they reach Bag End he fumbles with the key somewhat, muttering curses until at last it clicks in the lock. Then he steps back, beaming at Thorin.

“Go on then,” he says, and Thorin stares at him. “You first,” urges Bilbo.

Thorin is still holding the bread, the paper towel full of salt, and the coal, and tries to hand one of these to Bilbo, who backs away immediately, still giggling. With some difficulty Thorin manages to manhandle Bag End’s round doorknob into letting them both in, though he does so grumbling darkly about Librarians who can’t handle their drink.

“What was that about?” he asks, dumping his handful of peculiar treasures on the hall table.

“First Footing!” says Bilbo. “A tall dark man carrying money, salt, bread, coal and whisky should be the first person to cross your threshold after midnight on New Year. It means you’ll have a lucky year.” He throws his arms around Thorin’s shoulders and kisses him soundly once more. Thorin kisses back, sliding his hands down under Bilbo’s arse until he can hoist him unexpectedly upwards, and Bilbo’s back hits the wall with a heavy thud.

“Sorry,” gasps Thorin, “I didn’t mean...”

“S’fine,” manages Bilbo, unwilling to stop, digging his hand into the soft curls of hair at the back of Thorin’s neck and dragging him back in. Besides, he likes that Thorin can lift him so easily, and being picked up does avoid getting a crick in the neck. Although, that could also be said for lying down.

Bilbo pulls away. “Enough First Footing,” he says firmly. “My bedroom’s just over there and it’s bloody well time for some First Fu...”

He doesn’t manage to finish that sentence, the words stopped by a kiss with a growl in it that clearly hides a chuckle. Thorin seems to understand anyway.


	32. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYOOO WE MADE IT. Thank you to everyone who has left such nice comments, I love you all and wish you the best possible 2017!

Bilbo wakes blearily. Gollum is patting at his face repeatedly with increasing degrees of claw exposed, demanding breakfast, but for once Bilbo pushes him off, and the cat yowls furiously at the betrayal.

It’s a very long time since Bilbo last shared a bed, and he has awoken slightly too warm, with a faint headache and a stiff shoulder. It’s hard to care much when there’s a handsome man lying naked next to him still snoring. After the quantity of exhausting, exhilarating sex they had earlier that morning Bilbo isn’t a bit surprised. 

Gollum starts ostentatiously sharpening his claws on the doorframe and Bilbo swears under his breath, flinging a slipper at the wall beside the door to startle him off. It works, but Thorin cracks open one blue eye at the noise. 

“Good morning,” says Bilbo softly.

“Mph,” says Thorin, and smiles. “Very good morning.”

It’s the sort of smile that almost demands to be kissed. However, after last night’s booze Bilbo’s breath is probably foul. “What do you want for breakfast?” he asks, instead. “I could do porridge, if you like, or eggs?”

“No hurry,” says Thorin, nuzzling back into his pillow, and how the action manages to be both endearing and arousing Bilbo has not the least idea. “I don’t think I can face food just yet.”

“All right. I’ll make some tea, though,” says Bilbo, sitting up. Thorin reaches over at once, wordlessly slinging a broad, muscular, furry arm across Bilbo’s chest. Bilbo topples back into the pillows laughing helplessly, pinned to the bed and happier than he can remember in years.

“This won’t do at all. There’s another tradition, you know, that what you do on the first of January predicts what you’ll do for the rest of the year,” says Bilbo, once he can manage words again.

Thorin grins, leaning up on one elbow. He shifts until one leg lies between Bilbo’s, and bends to kiss him, apparently unbothered by morning breath. 

“In that case,” he says, “I have some ideas.”


	33. Epi-epilogue!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I did some writing prompts on [my Tumblr](http://ahiddenkitty.tumblr.com/) and one of them seemed to suit this 'verse, so I'll stick it here for the sake of completeness. 
> 
> The prompt was: Character A feels sad and calls Character B

Bilbo observes the rain outside the window with a gloomy satisfaction. He is too glum to make a proper dinner, instead eating a cold pork pie with chutney, and not even enjoying it. After keeping mostly Kosher for nearly three years, he doesn’t really like the taste any more. He ponders the bacon in the fridge, and wonders if it isn’t going to go straight in the bin. 

His mobile rings, and he lunges for it rather faster than is quite seemly. Only one person is likely to call at this hour.

“Why aren’t you here?” asks a familiar, gruff voice, without preamble, and Bilbo smiles for the first time that day. Thorin’s accent is growing more pronounced the longer he stays in Erebor, and Bilbo rather likes it.

“Technically, I am here,” he replies, wandering over to the kettle and flicking it on. “Just a different here than where you are.”

“Which is exactly the problem,” says Thorin. “I miss you.”

The past few months have been a whirlwind of excitement. It had begun when Gandalf (always Gandalf, the old meddler) had passed the Library’s check-in desk, tossing a folded newspaper into Bilbo’s lap.

“An article in International News I thought you might like,” he called over his shoulder, sauntering away again, and Bilbo had scowled and begun to read. It didn’t make an awful lot of sense to him, something about an unscrupulous business on the continent being taken to court, but since Thorin’s family came from somewhere thereabouts he had taken it home to show his husband. Thorin had read with rather more excitement, and immediately begun looking into the cost of flights.

It was Smaug Holdings, the company who had somehow swindled Thorin’s grandfather out of the family’s Mines, who were under investigation. The famous barrister Ara Black had been persuaded out of retirement and a case was brought that slowly revealed truly unconscionable levels of corruption and illegal dealings. Smaug’s CEO and several members of the board had been given actual prison sentences, the company was dissolved utterly, and the assets thereof disbursed according to the court’s order. 

Which left Thorin in Erebor, wrangling with solicitors and arranging the repatriation of his family, and Bilbo unfortunately required to return for the beginning of the Autumn term at the University. 

“I miss you too,” sighs Bilbo, plucking a teabag from the tin and dropping it into his mug. “How’s the transfer going?”

“Bloody awful,” groans Thorin, then corrects himself. “Fine. No major issues. I keep having to be polite and patient with people. It was much easier when you were here, you are so much better at these things.”

Bilbo chuckles. 

“It’s good practice for you,” he says tartly, fishing the teabag back out and flicking it expertly at the bin. “I’ve got a bit of news, actually. Prim had the brilliant idea of their moving into Bag End and selling their own place, instead. It’ll keep it in the family, and once their house is sold, they’re going to transfer the funds to me and buy Bag End. Not for what it’s worth, of course, but I insisted.”

“I don’t see why you don’t just make over the deed,” grumbles Thorin.

Bilbo snorts, and carries his tea into the Parlour where his comfortable armchair awaits. “Drogo has his pride, Thorin, and so do I. You might be rich as a fairytale prince these days but I can’t go giving away houses. Besides, if it ever got out you know Lobelia would never let me hear the end of it!”

It’s Thorin’s turn to chuckle. “True enough. You won’t miss her.”

“I won’t,” agrees Bilbo, settling himself into the cushions. “They even want to adopt Gollum, the poor fools. You know how he’s taken a shine to little Frodo.”

At the other end of the line, Thorin hums thoughtfully, and Bilbo rolls his eyes.

“They’re all terribly excited about coming over for holidays, too,” he adds firmly. “Can’t wait.”

“That’s good,” says Thorin softly, and there’s a faint rasping sound, as if he’s scratching at his beard. “I hope they’ll enjoy it here.”

“They will,” promises Bilbo. “I miss it already. The beautiful mountains, those great wild forests. I wish I could fly back out tomorrow.”

“I wish you could, too,” sighs Thorin. “But talking helps, for now.”

It does, and they continue to talk until Bilbo’s tea is long cold and it is past any sensible person’s bedtime. Soon enough papers will be signed, and arrangements made, Bilbo is certain. And then he can begin his next adventure, living happily ever after to the end of his days.


End file.
